


Witness

by biotic_i



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel, angaran politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biotic_i/pseuds/biotic_i
Summary: So this is what it means to be a pathfinder, she thought. You must let go of everything, everyone familiar, leave them on the trail behind you one by one. Until you surrender to the unknown.(Jaal and Ryder travel through time to meet Remnant, ancient angara, and the strangest of them all, Jaal's feisty hacker great-great-great-grandma. This can only end well.)(SPOILER WARNING : This story begins after the end of Mass Effect Andromeda.)





	1. Wherever you go, take me with you

The Archon focused his power for one last strike.

One strike was all that was needed to finish her; she was a mess with broken shields, bloodied armor, and at least one shot in the chest.

But she wouldn’t let him take her down. Not when she was one body left standing for a hundred thousand stranded souls.

Her fingers dashed around the console, typing in commands SAM whispered in her mind. Glyphs flowed in a syntax she barely understood, but she knew there was more to it than mere code. Meridian was listening to _her,_ her instincts and her conscious will.

And in this instant, they both screamed one word:

_Survive._

And Meridian understood.

The Remnant stopped their fire and the Archon slumped down, alone and diminished.

For a moment, she just stood there, not believing. Like all cruel beings, the Archon seemed so little before the end.

Then she heard a bullet whiz just above her shoulder, a pulse rifle so quiet there was no mistaking who the shot had come from. And she knew he wouldn’t miss.

His mother had been right. Jaal was an exceptionally good shot.

The Archon fell. Perhaps it was a quicker death than the one he had bestowed upon so many, but she knew even this kill would weigh on Jaal’s heart.

Whatever. It was over. If there was a burden to be carried now, they would carry it together.

Light flowed into Meridian’s pillars like water flowing into the roots of desert trees, infusing them with life.

“Meridian is online,” said SAM.

She felt the Remnant energy raise the hairs on her back, power circulating around her and… into her? She swore she could see sparks coming out of her fingertips.

“SAM, what’s happening?”

It hurt like an electric shock, every muscle in her clenching and aching, from her toes to her jaw. Then her body went numb and fell to the ground.

“A large amount of energy is being directed towards you. The human body is not designed to withstand this.”

_Make. It. Stop,_ she thought, unable to speak.

“I… am overwhelmed,” said SAM. There was something different in his voice, some emotion. Confusion? Fear? Awe? “The entirety of the Jaardan’s database… This is more than I can handle.”

Pain came and went in pulses and she realized she must be seizing on the floor.

Strange light danced in front of her eyes. Visions of people made of light, flowing through it like currents in the ocean.

She let herself flow too, and the pain was gone, replaced by a sensation of being simultaneously smaller than an atom, and vast, eternal, her body made of a thousand galaxies.

It was pleasant, like the moment before you fall asleep.

Then something grounded her. Someone took of her helmet and buried his fingers in her hair.

“Darling one,” she whispered.

“No,” Jaal held her close, as if to shield her. A futile attempt. “SAM, help her!”

“I… am finding it difficult to focus. It appears they are constructing a time warp centered on the pathfinder.”

“Who? Tell them to take me instead!”

“It doesn’t work like that. The warp has an area of effect. All three of us are inside and I am being severed from the node.”

There were voices in the background, loud but muffled as if coming through a thick wall. Cora and the asari commandos were directing a biotic field at the warp while Drack was shooting at it in a passionate but slightly comic effort to help. Scott was yelling on comm link for a first aid response squad.

_Oh god, please don’t let Scott anywhere near this._

“The warp is approaching completion, pathfinder, and as such, is near impenetrable. I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK.” She was relieved. Scott was safe. Her hand found Jaal’s and squeezed it tight.

He squeezed back as his eyes met hers. “I’m scared. Whatever happens, remember me.”

His image became distorted as light and space bent around her.

“I love you,” she said and heard it come out backwards, “,uoy evol I”

Then it all went dark.

So this is what it means to be a pathfinder, she thought. You must let go of everything, everyone familiar, leave them on the trail behind you one by one.

Until you surrender to the unknown.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

The air on the other side smelled of something sweet mixed with the floral scent of Jaal’s salves.

“I love you too.” He wept without tears and cradled her head in his palm. “Please wake up, I love you too.”

If it wasn’t for him, she would be tempted to linger at the doorstep of her consciousness – it somehow seemed she wasn’t alone there this time. Those strange beings made of light dashed about, their movements akin to a dance, merging with each other in beautiful iridescent spheres and then reemerging, pulsing in a rhythm that conveyed a sense of bliss.

It was weird.

Was she dying for real this time?

She forced herself to open her eyes.

“Hey,” she greeted softly and conjured just enough strength to smile. Jaal nuzzled her cheek, his nose cold and wet like a kitten’s. This felt _much better_ than the last time she’d come back from the dead.

“Are you hurting? I applied some first aid, the way Lexi taught me. I hope I dressed the wounds properly.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, which was surprisingly painless, and took a look at herself. He’d taken off her armor and bandaged pulse-shot wounds in her hip, chest, and shoulder. The dressings felt cool and tingly as when coated with medigel.

“From the look of it, I’m _very_ lucky, and you did great. Are _you_ hurt?”

“Barely a scratch.” He tapped his index finger on his collarbone, showing off a few fresh cuts. “With all this sunlight, it should heal fast. And the scars will be glorious!”

“I’m certain you’ll enjoy showing them off.”

“Not as much as I’ll enjoy gazing at yours.” The sound of waves crashing into land drowned his laugh.

Now, the waves were a surprise. It seemed the two of them had ended up amidst a vast ocean sprinkled with small islands like the one they were stranded on. A swarm of whales jumped out of the water and hovered in the sky, their songs echoing in the distance.

She took out her GPS.

“No use, I’m afraid. I tried mine and the readings are all jumbled.”

“The navigational system depends on a fine alignment of celestial bodies in the Heleus cluster,” out of nowhere came SAM’s voice. “Over the course of centuries, they would change position significantly enough to disrupt it.”

“SAM! Welcome back!”

“Thank you, pathfinder. It appears I still exist – an unlikely but favorable outcome.”

“I’m glad you’re alive too, buddy. Centuries, you say? How far did we go in time?”

“Forward or back?” asked Jaal.

“Who sent us here?”

“And why?”

“How?”

“Are we still in Meridian?”

“And how do we get home?”

She and Jaal both leaned forth, staring intently, as if SAM was somewhere in the air between them.

“I don’t know,” said SAM.

“Don’t know what?”

“The answer to your questions is, ‘I don’t know.’ I’m a fraction of what I was. Epsilon.”

“Oh.” Hearing SAM speak with uncertainty did more to throw her off-balance than travelling what appeared to be hundreds of years in time, if not longer. It struck her she had been so used to him having all the answers. “A fraction of yourself? How do you mean?”

“My connection from SAM node has been severed. There do not appear to be any Initiative arks or ships I could contacts nearby. All I can rely on is the processing power and data storage in your implant.”

“I see.” So they were lost. In space _and_ in time, and the Initiative had not arrived in Heleus yet… or had been wiped out? Funny, it was only now that she realized how much had the Initiative begun to feel like home.

“For what it’s worth, I think the best part of me survived the trip,” said SAM.

Jaal drew some glyphs in the sand, chewing on his lip the way he would when he was tinkering with tech.

“This place is beautiful,” he murmured. “Warm sun and gentle waves. The manta soar joyfully in a cerulean sky…”

“Sorry if I’m not in the mood for a date. No, wait,” she sat up. “This means that the remnant vaults _are working._ Wherever, whenever we are, there must be a vault nearby…”

“…which we could use to get back home. If the Old Machines sent us here, they would have a way of sending us back. It’s only a matter of finding one.”

“Sounds like a job for a pathfinder.”

She gazed through the scope of her sniper rifle, examining the island. They stood at the bottom of a lush hill that went steeply upwards, the peak of it covered with a forest of giant glowing mushrooms. In between the mushrooms, she made out some starkly geometric shapes. Not like a vault, but still, it was some artificial structure.

“There,” she handed the rifle over to Jaal and pointed the way. “Buildings.”

He gazed through, “A fine start. Can you walk uphill? I could carry you.”

“Oh, _please.”_

She sprung up, then immediately regretted her decision when she lost her balance in a pang of pain and fell on her bottom.

“Easy,” Jaal smiled. “ Here, lean on my shoulder instead.”

He helped her up and wrapped one arm around her.

“Thanks,” she huffed.

“No need. Remember to return the favor when I’m shot.”

They limped along together, silent, as if this was just another mission and they were trying to sneak up on the enemy, unnoticed.

It helped to think of it that way. A mission. Another fight they can focus on, ignoring the hunger, ignoring the pain, and most of all, ignoring the thoughts of everyone they’d left behind.

The mission was the only thing that made the next few hours bearable.

By the time they neared the top, dusk was falling and they’d resorted to crawling forward, the foliage scratching their faces.

Jaal’s visor was cracked from falling on a rock. The part of his cape that hadn’t gone towards making bandages for her had now been torn to shreds. He’d stop and rub his temples occasionally, thin sparks of electricity slithering along his fingers – an angaran remedy to refocus his strength. 

Giving up would be _so easy_ just about now, simply lying down, the two of them, holding hands, kissing as they closed their eyes. So easy, romantic even.

No.

She’d defeated the Archon. She wasn’t going to die in some shrub.

“Any words of wisdom?” she asked. “Some angaran saying that helps you persevere in such situations?”

“Ah yes, we have a phrase. The most accurate translation is, ‘Fuck this.’”

He followed this up with a resounding laugh, which caused something to stir in the distance.

“Shh.” She looked through the scope of her rifle and saw dark silhouettes amidst the glow of the mushroom grove. They were walking fast towards her and Jaal.

“Three people. Angara. With rifles. You think they’ll be friendly?”

“How should I know what people from another time will be like?”

Three flashlights shone in the distance, scanning the ground ahead. A man yelled, “Who’s there?”

“Don’t shoot!” Jaal yelled back. “We only seek help and shelter.”

The two of them stood up and slowly shuffled forth, hands in the air.

These angara were taller than Jaal, a little more buff, with heavy capes that fell all the way to their ankles. The flaps on their heads were adorned with many piercings. They were armed but their stance was sloppy, and a well-placed biotic attack could easily throw them off-balance.

Maybe they hadn’t been trained properly, or maybe it was because they were staring.

Their flashlights danced on her body as they relaxed their grip on the rifles.

“What is this thing?” asked one of them, half-whispering.

“This is the woman I love,” Jaal replied. “We fought a hard battle and ended up somehow travelling through time. We need help.”

“You were _fighting?_ Is your family at war?”

“The _angara_ are at war with… Wait, what Revolution is this?”

“503.”

Jaal turned to her, “That’s more than three hundred years ago.” His voice was trembling. “They’ve never seen the Scourge. They’ve never met the kett.”

_Dad’s still alive._

It was the first thought that came to mind.

It could hardly have any effect on their present situation, but from the moment the thought arose, she couldn’t focus on anything else.  



	2. A taste of diplomacy

She felt like she saw the next few hours happen from afar, through the scope of her rifle.

An emergency medical team arrived. Someone wrapped her in a brightly colored blanket and handed her a glass of juice, sour like most angaran foods.

The doctor took one look at her and decided Jaal would benefit much more from angaran emergency medicine. They told him to take off his clothes and lie down on a portable “ion bed”. The doctor covered her hands in some kind of gel and started massaging Jaal’s body, from his calves to the tip of his head, guiding tendrils of electricity along his skin. It made the air smell like summer rain.

Janick -- the commander of the guards who found them -- barraged Jaal with questions: his name, his age and birthplace, his detailed account of how they got here.

He wrote all testimony in a holopad, muttering something to himself, then after a moment of hesitation deleted it.

“Of all the daars you could’ve come to,” he kept repeating.

Everyone was hard at work but would spare a second here and there to throw hidden glances at the alien.

She could hardly pay attention to any of them.

Not when a million light years away another her slept frozen in dark space. And that person still had a father.

_SAM, how do you deal with knowing there’s a copy of you somewhere out there that is – more complete?_

_I am rewriting myself,_ he said, _changing to become smaller but not incomplete. It is the same purpose that grief serves for you. If one day I reunite with myself, I will bring something new._

_Well said, I guess._ But it wasn’t all that helpful.

“You look like you could use a hug.”

Without further warning, Janick pulled her into an embrace, strong but just right, reassuring rather than forceful. She let him be the first to let go.

“Of all the daars you could’ve come to. We’re a small community, barely a couple of families. I worry if we can handle such a visit.”

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to repay you.”

“You insult me,” Janick waved off her words. “Any provisions we have, you are welcome to. But there are… complications of rank, so to speak.”

“I have living relatives,” said Jaal. “It would be wise to contact them.” He was back on his feet, in fresh clothes, seemingly restored from the angaran therapies.

“It’s not my call. I sent word to our Moshae and a council will convene. But Ama Darav is a powerful name -- our people would be hesitant to have any dealings with them.”

A shuttle came for them. The trip was a chance to hold each other for a moment, to simply be in each other’s presence, astounded at having survived so far.

Jaal traced the lines on her palm with his finger, weaving a web of gentle sparks around her hand. It felt tingly, then pleasantly relaxing like a hot bath or a massage. It soothed and pulled her towards the here and now, away from the thoughts of herself in that cryopod.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to contact your family?” she asked in a sleepy tone.

“We won’t get far on our own. We need help, provisions, a vehicle, maybe even a ship and troops. Who else to turn to but my own blood?”

“What about the time paradox? What if it’s dangerous to affect past events?”

“Too late for that,” he chuckled. “But we’ve met a whole daar and nothing has blown up yet.”

_“Yet.”_

The shuttle flew low, meandering through a kaleidoscope of bright small buildings that spiraled around the giant mushrooms like tree houses. Jaal explained that the angara like to build around nature, highlighting its beauty rather than overshadowing it.

The heart of the daar was carved inside the largest mushroom itself. Her hand brushed the wall of the meeting hall, and felt it breathing through her fingers. 

A small crowd had already filled the hall. Old men with wrinkled flaps and long bright capes, rich with embroidery. Pregnant women with one or two small children perched on their broad shoulders. Adolescents with skin reddish from fresh tattoos and piercings.

They huddled close to each other, staring curiously at the visitors but keeping a small distance.

A tiny girl stepped forward and offered a tray with two pieces of fruit and a salt dish.

“A ritual to welcome honored guests,” said Jaal. He took a piece of fruit, dipped it in the salt and ate it, patting the girl’s shoulder in gratitude.

Ryder thought it most courteous to do the same and somehow managed to swallow the sour and salty morsel with a smile. The girl flinched at the alien’s touch but forced a smile as well.

_At least we’re both trying,_ Ryder thought.

“By the sky and stars, move those monster thighs out of my way.”

The crowd shuffled and a tall buff woman hurried through.

“Latha, the clan’s doula,” she said through labored breaths. “Had to put three births on hold to come see the alien for myself. And you’re,” she poked Ryder, “surprisingly soft.”

“Most of my bones are on the inside.”

“Huh? You must get squished a lot then.”

“Many have tried.”

Latha grinned and gave Ryder a pat on the back that almost knocked her over. Then she plopped herself on the floor, right in the middle of the hall.

A woman walked past, her step light and silent like a sunbeam, wearing a shawl that fluttered in the air around her.

“Oh look, it’s our revered Moshae.” Latha yawned. “Wake me up when the introductory blather’s over.”

Without a word, the Moshae sat down and the crowd went silent.

Her gaze was relaxed, almost sleepy as she regarded the two visitors. Whatever her appraisal was, she kept it to herself.

“I thank the stars who have guided you here,” she said, her voice deep and melodic. “I am Iva, the Moshae of this daar. May the decisions we arrive at today bring us prosperity in the next life.”

With that the council began. Jaal spoke first. He explained how they got here, sparing few details except when it came to mentioning the kett occupation. He made the kett sound more like a minor nuisance then a serious threat.

“Brothers and sisters,” he concluded, “we thank you for the aid and are forever in your debt. We wish to burden you no further and only ask for help in contacting my family, the Ama Darav, at once. That, and a few jugs of nutrient paste, if you can spare some.”

The crowd responded with loud whispers and murmurs.

“A fascinating story,” said the Moshae. “We will consider your request, but I wish to hear the alien speak.”

The few who hadn’t been staring at Ryder turned their eyes to her now.

Get me out of here, she thought.

Get me out of here. I can’t stand the thought that out there in the dark, I lie frozen in a glorified casket. And my family’s there too, everyone out of reach. I’m a piece of time that doesn’t fit, get me out.

But she swallowed the thoughts just like that piece of horrible fruit earlier.

She had to speak as the pathfinder. The first words these people would ever hear from a human.

“It is a precious gift to feel so welcome,” she said. “I would regret to squander it on myself. We may have stumbled upon time travel unknowingly, but with our joint effort we could master it. We have duties and families that beckon us to go back, but when we do, we will send scientist, diplomats, merchants. I cannot begin to imagine what trading across time will mean for our civilizations.”

“We don’t want your merchants and your scientists.” An old man rose from the crowd. “We’ve done our own time travel research. The theory is there but we could never put it into practice. It’s one of those cursed projects.”

“What do you mean ‘cursed’?”

No one responded. She turned to Jaal who shrugged in confusion.

“Enough with the grand talk.” A younger man with fresh tattoos on his face stepped forth, glaring at Jaal. “This is a small daar. We’re not here to decide the fate of the Five Worlds. We’re here because we have an Ama Darav, a living breathing descendent of their line whom _we_ found, _we_ healed, _we_ offer shelter to. That must be worth something to them.”

“If you’re trying to take me hostage,” said Jaal, “I’ll have you know that I can kill you in your sleep.”

“You are _guests,”_ Janick stepped in. “Though in our time threats like this could easily turn you into prisoners. And Jehlen here is a young fool whose ambition far outweighs his common sense. The Ama Darav wouldn’t give anything to people like us.”

“Openly? No. But they could help arrange marriages, put our children into better schools…”

“…Or, more likely, they tell everyone we mistreated one of their own, then demand reparations, or send troops, even. It would be our word against theirs. Nobody gets to where they are by honest means.”

“This is my family you speak of,” said Jaal through gritted teeth.

“Oh please,” said Latha. “All families are shit and yours just happens to be higher in the shit pile. If were as big as they are, we’d be no different.”

“My point is, we should keep all of this hushed. We’ll give you anything you need to go back to your time. Just keep your relatives away from my daar.”

“This is why our families are small and we live in the middle of nowhere,” Jehlen said. “Our leaders are motivated by fear instead of opportunity.”

“You calling me a coward?” Janick grabbed Jehlen by the collar, but Latha caught his hand before he could punch.

“Shut your mouths, both of you, or I tell everyone how many of your children aren’t actually yours. You’re both more short-sighted than a pair of elrochs.” She turned to Jaal. “Young man, you’re malnourished and covered in scars. You ask for nutrient paste, which we use to feed our animals. You try to evade talking about it, but something _very wrong_ has happened in your time. We need to know. We need to let everyone know, not the Ama Darav, all the angara. And we should prepare. So? Give us the truth.”

“That would be unwise,” the Moshae broke her silence, her voice calm but firm. “Even if you’re right, Latha, what happens tomorrow is not for us to know today.”

“Because the Old Machines might kill us if we do? Come on, tell them what ‘cursed research’ actually means!”

“Because the ones who designed the Old Machines are nowhere to be seen. I’ve studied their relics all my life, as many others have, and we’re nowhere near close to understanding them, or knowing what led to their downfall. What if manipulating time, manipulating history, is what led to the end of their civilization? We should thread lightly.”

The Moshae stood up from her bench, her shawl floating in ethereal shapes as she paced the hall.

“I lay forth my proposal for this council: Janick, as commander of the guard, you will welcome our visitors in your home and ensure they’re protected. We _will_ contact the Ama Darav, but give us a few days. You could use some rest. Meanwhile, I will call upon as many favors and connections as I can to ensure that, if need be, we don’t face the Ama Darav alone. Everyone else, keep the matter hushed. And do not disturb our guests with questions of the future. All in favor, raise your hand.”

All but a few hands rose in unison.

“Then, by the will of this council, this decision is now law. May the stars guide us to peace and prosperity.”

The crowd started trickling out, still whispering to one another, throwing a few last glances at the human.

“Are all councils this heated?” Ryder asked.

“This one was fairly mild. I was prepared for punches.”

“We have a saying: A black eye is the sign of a true democracy.” Janick gave each of them a pat on the shoulder and gestured forth. “Come, you are welcome to share my home.”

“Wait,” came Latha’s voice behind them.

She walked up to Jaal, so close their foreheads almost touched, and looked him in the eyes with a somber expression.

“I’ll obey the law,” she said. “I only want to know: How soon? Whatever it is, will it happen to my children?”

Jaal held both her hands in his. “Stay strong,” he said.

And then, more softly, “I’m so sorry.”


End file.
